Forgive me?
by YerAWizardBec
Summary: She vowed she'd never shed another tear over him, a vow she stuck to, even if it means she cant write this article, an article declaring his escape from Azkaban. And its was only when an unexpected individual turns up in the empty Daily prophet office is she enlightened with the truth and can finally shed a tear for her lost love. (Im rubbish at summaries, but give it a read!)


**Authors note: right okay, I've had this written for a while now and I've been putting off posting it because it contains a MASSIVE Accio Evans spoiler, but with how slow I'm updating because of law school etc, it could be ages until I reveal what will happen, so I've decided to go against my better judgment and post this.**

 **So I promise I am working on an update for Accio Evans, but I've decided to post this, just to tide you over until the next chapter is posted! And hopefully I you read Accio Evans you'll forget the spoiler and it'll still be a surprise when you read it, hopefully! Anyway, the characters are the same: Lily Evans, Hestia Jones, Alice Prewitt and Jessica Silvers, as well as the Marauders and Frank, just so you know before reading**

 **And to conclude my little essay - I apologise for my sentence structure, I am aware I use waaaay too many comma's and I overuse semi-colons, I also write in passive voice which annoys my friend to hell, but I like it so… anyway, hope you like it! If you do, remember to review, and even if you don't, leave us a little comment with a way to improve. Thank you, happy reading!**

Hestia Jones sat her desk in the middle of the Daily Prophet office, staring blankly at the typewriter in front of her; no matter how hard she tried, her fingers wouldn't write, they couldn't form words. Mostly, as the notice board to her left showed an image she hoped she'd never have to see again, an image that stirred up immense feelings of guilt, pain and hurt.

Sirius Black's erratic face stared out from the page, watching her every move with an insane edge. Her eyes wandered longingly over to the picture, his Azkaban robes hung from his slender frame, his once perfect hair fell flat, the fire that had flared behind his eyes lost; he wasn't her Sirius any more. Her Sirius was gentle, he was kind, his hair fell in perfect waves and his eyes were always full of laughter, the man on the page was just a shell, a shell that used to encase _her_ Sirius. She remembered the endless nights they'd spent together, the feel of his soft lips on hers, his warm skin underneath her fingertips; she shuddered at the memories that played around and around her brain.

Cursing herself, she shook her head, but it had all been a lie. When he'd told her he loved her, he hadn't meant it. When he'd said he hated the dark arts, that he would do anything to fight against Voldemort, he'd lied. **Everything** had been a lie. Tears pricked her eyes, but she refused to let them fall, she'd shed enough tears for him. She'd vowed not another tear would fall from her eyes because of Sirius Black and she was determined not to break that vow. Shifting her chocolate coloured curls so they fell over her slim shoulders, she took a deep breath, her crystal blue eyes focused on the task in hand.

' _Sirius Black – Escape from Azkaban. Are the Ministry of Magic to blame?'_

Shaking her head, she couldn't quite believe what she was writing, Sirius Black - of course he'd be the first to break out of Azkaban; he had to be the first to do everything: the first down to dinner, the first to climb the tallest tree, her first…

He'd pursued her for months, she'd let him get close and then push him away. She knew she was teasing him, but the feeling of control she had over Sirius Black, _the Sirius Black_ , was remarkable. Then when she finally let him in, it made it all the sweeter.

No. She shook the memory from her head, she would not think about him in that way, dredge up those memories, no, not again. He may not have raised his wand to kill James and Lily, but he was the reason they were dead. Lily Evans, the sweet red head, her best friend. This time she couldn't contain the tears, hot and salty, they slipped down from her eyes leaving glistening trails down her perfectly made up face. James – practically her brother: funny, loyal and sweet. At the thought of the two of them together more tears began to spill, they were so young, with so much left to give… and Harry! He must be 12 now, 13, maybe older, she'd lost track of the years; they'd passed by so quickly. She'd seen him in Diagon Alley earlier that year with the Weasley's, he'd looked so grown up and so much like James, but with Lily's piercing eyes. It was almost like she was staring back at you. She'd almost broken down there and then in the middle of Flourish and Blotts when their eyes had briefly met, but she managed to hold it together until she reached the Leaky Cauldron where she downed her sorrows in a glass of fire whiskey, or six…

Lily was her best friend in the whole world, and to have her taken away so cruelly broke her heart, but every time she'd remember Lily, James was there too… and Sirius. James and him, they were brothers in all but blood, how could he do that to his brother? James and Lily were dead and it was all down to him; he'd betrayed them and now they were dead.

A small knock at the door pulled Hestia from her memories, taking a deep breath and wiping her face quickly; she turned to face the door and called for the knocker to come in. Round the door, poked the head a petite witch, coppery coloured hair hung straight around her face reaching just over her shoulders. Her brown eyes didn't meet Hestia's crystalline gaze, but her small mouth curved into a smile. Hestia forced a smile, although it felt more like a grimace, the small woman looked up and Hestia relaxed slightly.

"Danielle." Hestia said attempting to keep her tone light, despite the aching feeling that was weighing down her chest.

"Are you finished? It's just I wondered if you want to go out for a butter beer or something?" Danielle asked, her voice barely above a whisper. Her delicate face twitched slightly as she spoke.

"I've got loads of work to do, so not today, but maybe tomorrow?" Hestia replied, her false smile still plastered across her features.

"Oh, okay." Danielle squeaked and with a small blush across her cheeks, she was gone.

Danielle was sweet and Hestia felt like Queen Bitch for turning her away, after all she was pretty much the only friend Hestia had. Danielle was sweet, kind and loyal, she'd do anything for anyone – but that was the problem: Danielle wasn't dynamic, she wasn't fiery, she wasn't stubborn… _she wasn't Lily_ … sighing heavily, Hestia knew a sob would soon rise in her chest, as it usually did when thoughts of Lily entered her brain. Delicately she ran her finger down the glass of the muggle photo frame by her desk, the only personal artefact in her booth: Hestia stood in her pyjamas with a beaming Lily, clothed in her wedding dress, her hair loose and free, her makeup minimal. She literally glowed, as if the sun shone from her face, her natural red curls cascaded over her shoulders, her glittering green eyes alight with joy and the prospect of things to come. Hestia and Lily stood, hands intertwined, their shoulders pressed together as they posed for the photo. Two faces were blurred in the background as they moved, but Hestia knew the blurs were the forms of Jessica and Alice, scurrying around Lily's bedroom attempting to find Lily's shoes and Hestia's handbag, Alice's headband and Jessica's corsage.

They were all so young, just eighteen - completely unaware of what would happen in just a few short years. Then everything started to go wrong, Jessica had been the first to fall, murdered just four months later, but eventually they would all succumb to the blackness that would eventually consume them all.

Lily's death had ultimately signed the death warrant for Hestia too… since the fateful Halloween when Lily and James had died, Hestia had barely smiled or laughed and she sure as hell hadn't loved anyone. True there'd been the odd guy who lasted a few weeks, Jessica's brother Jake even lasted a few months but that was it, she'd never loved anyone again and she doubted she even could.

But it hadn't just been Lily and James who she'd lost – oh no, Fate hadn't been that kind: Jessica had been murdered just months after the photo had been taken, then Lily some time later and then Alice less than a month after her. Destiny had been so cruel, she'd allowed Hestia a month to grieve, and then she'd taken another from her. Although Alice wasn't dead, not really, she was still there, but she wasn't the Alice anyone knew anymore, her mind was completely lost. And in a way that was worse, knowing one of your best friends was alive but they'd never remember you, what you did, the memories you made, the people you loved… in that case death seemed kind.

Hestia had been to see Alice once, but as she'd reached the edge of the ward and caught a glimpse of Alice in her nightgown, her beautiful face aged, her once neat hair falling out in clumps, she thought she'd be sick. Then she saw Neville, the poor boy stood there talking to his mother, except she didn't know who he was; it was so tragic she'd vowed never to go back…

She'd loved and lost everyone she scared for, Peter too. The small boy with the comedic timing and the uncanny ability to make her laugh when she didn't want to smile, Sirius had taken him from her too. The only one left was Remus, dear sweet Remus. They'd met up a few times in the aftermath, they'd drunk fire whiskey until their heads spun and the ceiling felt like the ground, they'd held each other as they cried, but ultimately the pain was too much; seeing each other brought back the hurt, opened the wounds, prolonged the inevitable. Eventually, for her own sanity, Hestia had ignored his letter, he'd sent another, but she ignored that too. It was like she was ripping her heart out but it was necessary, she loved Remus but every time she saw his sandy coloured hair and his blue eyes, it was as if they'd just died, everything became so fresh, the wound re-opened. She couldn't do that to herself anymore, so she cut out the only remaining link to her old life.

She forged a new life for herself, she applied to the Prophet, the very paper that Remus and Sirius had voiced their opinion against, she'd bought a new flat away from their shared house, she hadn't set foot in Hogsmeade since and only into Diagon Alley when she desperately needed too. She'd found new friends, or attempted too; it seemed she was damaged goods, people initially latched onto her, her good looks drawing them in, but once they got closer and saw the cracks, they backed off, leaving her alone once again. That was until Danielle, she'd seen the cracks but she'd stayed, she was the first to do so. The same went for relationships too, she'd thrown together feelings for whatever man had wandered into her life, convincing herself she was in love, but of course she was just pretending. Jake had only lasted as long as he had because they'd both been grieving for a person who would never return.

She pushed the typewriter away from her and buried her head in her hands. She tried to restrain the pricking sensation that formed in her eyes but she failed as hot tears spilt from her eyes, furiously she rubbed them from her face. She sniffed loudly and ran her fingers through her untameable curls, still the mass of unorganized chaos that they had been whilst still at school; it seemed to be another way for fate to tease her. She hadn't aged a day, whilst people in the office of the same age as her moaned of wrinkles and sagging chests, Hestia couldn't join in. She'd once voiced her wish to grow old, and the journalist in the booth next to her had scolded her and told her not to wish away her youthful fresh faced looks and had told everyone in the office, who had laughed at her and told her she was silly to wish the time away. But she didn't feel silly; all she wanted was to look differently to the 18 year old girl who stared back at her from the photograph on her desk. She convinced herself that if she aged, wrinkled, sagged, that the girl in the photo was another girl, another girl who'd lost everything she cared about, that wasn't her, no, she had a lovely flat just outside of Knightsbridge, she had a wonderful friend in Danielle and _she was wrinkled_. They couldn't be the same person, but alas, fate was not so kind.

The typewriter in front of her glared back, every gleaming letter seemed to mock her, reminding her that she couldn't write the article she was supposed to, the article that was supposed to be on her editor's desk over an hour ago. She sighed and leant her head back, the ceiling suddenly becoming her main focus. She wasn't sure how long she sat there, just staring at the ceiling; only pulled from her thoughts by the creaking of the office door. Hestia turned quickly, expecting to see her editor ready to pull his hair from his head, but she was surprised to see the face of Barnabus Cuffe staring back her, complete in his tartan trousers and waistcoat.

"The editor loves your article." He said straight faced. The boy couldn't have been more than 19, with an eccentric dress sense and a flair for reporting. He showed real promise, but was stuck being the tea boy to the incompetent editor of the paper who rather took him for granted.

"I hope that wasn't sarcastic." She countered, returning her gaze towards her discarded typewriter, eyeing it with disgust.

"Of course not." The boy sounded offended, Hestia felt remorse build up in her chest, but tried to ignore it, he was the one who'd come into the office with some retort about her article when he knew full well she hadn't written it. "He loved it, said it was slightly different to your normal style but he loved it, it's being printed as we speak." Hestia turned back towards the reporting apprentice.

"I haven't written the article." She replied bluntly, but his face had broken out in a cheeky grin, then the thought hit her. "You wrote it didn't you?" she asked, quite unsure what on earth had possessed him to do so.

"Of course not." He shrugged off. "But hypothetically speaking, if our crime reporter looked to be having an awful day and needed an hour alone with her thoughts, I would hope a certain tea boy would be willing to help her out." He added, Hestia relaxed. If Hestia was one for smiling, this would have been the time to produce the most dazzling smile she could muster, but she wasn't one for smiling anymore.

"Thank you Cuffe. I don't know how I can repay you." She breathed, unsure of what to make the situation.

"How about a date? I'll take you for a drink down at the Three Broomsticks; you know the one I mean, in Hogsmeade?" he asked, his tone hopeful. Hestia's chest tightened at the mention of the village, if only he hadn't specified there she would have probably accepted his offer, bought him a drink, maybe even kissed him, then ruffled his hair and informed him he was far too young for her, that was how she worked. But at the mention of the Three Broomsticks, she knew she couldn't.

"Sorry Cuffe, but I'm far too old for you." She apologised, albeit not very sincerely.

"It was worth a try." Barnabus grinned. "See you later Jones." and with that he was gone. Hestia returned her gaze to her desk, her discarded typewriter, her photograph, her scarf flung haphazardly onto the floor in her haste to get rid of the thin fabric that stuck to her skin in the dimming heat of the summer. She picked up the fabric and threw it in her oversized bag along with several files that she'd need to work on tonight, but would probably ignore until the morning. She looked over her check list for what articles were to be completed for the rest of the week and cast another look towards the muggle photograph that stood on her desk when she heard the door creak open once again, if she'd listened carefully she'd have also heard the soft click of the bolt lock being pulled across, but she didn't.

"Barnabus, I already said I -" she started, but her words failed, as she turned to see who was standing with his back leant against the door, his eyes studying her intently.

"Who's Barnabus, new boyfriend?" He breathed, although the teasing tone was lost as his eyes slowly scanned her entire body, hungrily memorising every inch of her. Her breath caught in her throat, her lungs were paralysed as her heart raced, unable to process what was in front of her. She backed against her desk, she knew the panic button could be activated with just one press and security could be in the room within the minute.

"Don't press that button." He asked, sensing her movements. "I just wanted to see you." He added, taking a step towards her, then another. He had crossed the room in a few strides, his long legs making light work of the office floor.

"Stay away from me." She ordered, fumbling around in her pocket for her wand and hoping her duelling skills were still what they used to be.

"No, I can't." He answered. He took his wand slowly from his pocket and dropped it to the floor, to show he meant no harm; it landed on the polished floor with a soft clatter. "I've missed you for twelve years. For twelve years I've wanted to hold you and to kiss you. Please don't push me away." He begged, his grey eyes desperate, his face only one step away from her.

"No." she replied, her voice shaking, without touching her he'd almost managed to reduce her to a quivering wreck. "You're a murderer, stay away from me, or I'll call the Aurors." She hissed her tone sharp. He recoiled at her words, her tone cutting his skin like a hex. "Stay away from me Sirius Black." But the man in front of her was not the Sirius Black she knew, his stormy irises were bloodshot and crazed, his hair hung in strings, instead of its perfect waves. His skin hung sallow across his cheekbones, the aristocratic good looks tainted, and the natural elegance eroded by years confined.

"You really think I'd kill my best friend?" he questioned bitterly, his eyes not leaving her face.

"You were taken to Azkaban, you killed James and Lily and Peter. Don't come near me." She almost sobbed. The man who had given away her best friend's life like a lamb to slaughter was stood before her, but as much as she wanted to hate him, to hex him, she couldn't bring herself to, she was overcome by the love she still felt for him.

"I didn't." he whispered, closing the gap between them, his body only centimetres from hers. At the almost contact her body longed to be closer to his, but she resisted the urge, her fingers shaking with the effort. "They changed their secret keeper; I wasn't the one who betrayed them." His eyes studied her, taking in every dimple, every freckle, every contour of her face, the face he'd missed for so long.

"Why would they do that?" she spat, but as he leant in, closing the gap between them, his body lightly pressed against hers, the anger that surged through her veins faulted ever so slightly. "A-a-and if it wasn't you, then who was it?" she stuttered, the close proximity of his body sending her brain into a frenzy. He noticed her tone was much lighter, a half smile cockily spread across his face as he realised the effect he was having on her. The rational part of her brain screamed at her to curse him and to run for the Aurors, but the part of her brain that was longing to kiss him overpowered every other thought; even the rational part of her was beginning to believe him, she had no idea why, but she hung on his every word.

"Peter, he was their secret keeper. He was the one who betrayed them." She scoffed, loudly, pushing him away from her in disgust.

"Peter was my friend, how dare you come here and accuse a dead man?" she demanded, her blue irises burning with anger. Hands curled into fists, her long nails dug into the soft flesh of her palm, indenting crescent marks.

"I thought he was mine too." Sirius countered, restrained anger flashing across his once handsome but now tired features. "But as I got to Godric's Hollow, I knew. As I saw James, and I saw Lily," he voice cracked into a sob, he took a deep breath and composed himself. "As I saw them dead, my brother and my sister," Hestia knew the tears were beginning to fall, she was powerless to stop them. "And my godson _screaming_ , I knew. I knew it was him. I knew it was Peter. I _begged_ them to change the secret keeper, I was too well known, poor quiet Peter was a better choice." He spat, but his eyes were brimming with unshed tears, it seemed grief affected them in the same way…

"But Peter is dead." Hestia cut in bluntly. "You killed him, you made sure of that, removed all traces of your crime."

"But I didn't." he replied sharply, once again closing the gap between them and holding her by the shoulders, her body trembled at his touch, she wasn't sure whether it was from fear or longing. She wanted to hate the man stood in front of her, to hate him with every fibre of her being but yet her heart was urging her to forgive everything, throw herself at him, feel those lips against hers once again, she tried to subdue the feeling but her racing heart would not still. "I went to kill him, oh I did. I wanted to kill him, I wanted to make him pay." He stopped, his fingers trailing idly through her hair, their eyes focusing solely on each other. Confusion etched across her features.

"I-I-I don't understand." She stuttered. He released her shoulders, one hand fell to her waist, the other trailed down her face, catching his fingers in the loose tendrils of her chocolate curls. Her skin sparked at his touch.

"Sssh." He soothed, wiping the falling tears from her face with his thumb. He paused, his eyes fixing solely on hers, "I went to kill him." He put bluntly. "But he saw me. He caused that explosion, he killed those muggles, and then Wormtail scurried off, leaving behind just a finger." He whispered his voice barely audible. Unconsciously she leant closer to him, her head resting in the crook of his neck, inhaling the smell of his skin. Even after all those years incarcerated, he still smelt the same, the same smell that excited her senses and reminded her of lost nights together. Her arms hung loosely around his neck, she knew she shouldn't be anywhere near him, but the urge was killing her.

"Wormtail, I don't under-" then she understood, Peter had made off in his animagus form, an animagus form that only the Marauders and those that were dead knew of, an animagus form no-one would be looking for because they didn't know it existed. She pulled back, her hands covered her mouth; she shook her head violently, her whole body shaking. Her knees gave way, but Sirius caught her. She fell against him, his arms protectively clasped around her waist. That was when the sobs came, loud and noisy but she couldn't stop them from coming. He settled her on her chair, her body shaking so violently, she thought she'd fall from her chair and remain a wobbling form on the floor, but Sirius held her still. Crouched in front of her, his hands held her hips, his lips idly trailing kisses along her bare knees.

"Where is he now?" she choked, he looked up, his eyes slightly more sane than before.

"He found a family, made themselves his pet rat. He probably would have got away with what he did, apart from he wasn't careful enough, I found him." He almost grinned, but his mouth seemed paralysed, as if his brain was caught between pleasure and devastation. He took one hand from her hip, still holding her steady with the other. He reached into the grubby pocket of his robes and withdrew a newspaper article. She knew which one it was without reading it: the Weasley's, they'd won a large sum of money and spent it on a holiday to Egypt, she'd helped to edit the article for a colleague. He handed it to her; she wasn't sure why he was giving her it. Her eyes scanned the text but there was no indication to what he meant her to see. After only a moment, he circled the pet rat with his finger. Hestia's eyes trailed across the text to where his finger rested, the pet rat, Ron's pet rat, _Scabbers_ ; the one Ron himself had told her had been in their family twelve years... Her quick intake of breath almost choked her; she dropped the paper, unable to keep her mind straight. He was missing a toe. It was Wormtail.

"But that's Ron, that's Harry's best friend!" she panicked, her hand raking through her hair.

"Do you believe me now?" he asked, she shakily nodded her head.

"Yes. I believe you." She breathed, his face broke out into a dazzling smile and for a split second, he looked young again, he looked like the Sirius she'd lost, not the shell that stood before her. He pulled himself to his feet, Hestia being dragged with him; he was still taller than her even in her work heels. Her face was soaked in tears, her mascara had run, her lips quivered, but yet she was still the most beautiful girl he'd ever set eyes on. "I love you." She sobbed "I never stopped loving you." She choked; something in her eyes told him she was telling him the truth.

And that was when he kissed her, his lips pressed against hers. Smooth and soft, he was exactly the same as she remembered, gentle but passionate, delicate but yet strong.

She was better than he remembered; his lips gliding themselves across hers with familiarity, tasting of coffee, hours ago toothpaste and the aftertaste of salty tears. Her fingers worked their way through his hair with the same expertise they had years ago, her fingers traced small circles on the small of her back, it used to drive her crazy. They broke part breathless.

"I never stopped thinking about you Hestia, every day I thought about this moment, the moment I could tell you I still love you… but I'm not that eighteen year old boy anymore…" he trailed off. "I'm not who I used to be, Azkaban changed me." A single tear fell from his eyes. "I can't be the man you want me to be. And please don't hate me for what I'm about to do." He shook his head and stepped away from her, her body longing to be close to him again, to feel his lips against hers. She shook her head in confusion.

"I don't want you to go …" her voice shook. He didn't want to leave as he stepped away from her, never turning his back, but he had to.

"I'm going back to Hogwarts. I'm going to save Harry." He breathed, and with a single fluid movement, he unlocked the door, summoned his wand and left her, standing there alone, tears streaked down her face, her lips aching to be with his.

Almost without unthinking, she reached across her desk and lifted the phone from the receiver, the cord curling around her wrist. She punched in the number she had memorised so many times but never had enough nerve to dial.

"Hello?" A soft voice answered, her breath caught in her throat, it was him, it was really him. "Hello? Is anyone there?" the voice asked as she failed to answer.

"Remus?" she asked although she knew it was him.

"Hestia?" the voice on the other end of the phone replied, unable to believe it was really her. "This is unexpected, how are you?" he asked, unable to think of anything else to say.

"I've been better. Are you free now, there's something I need to explain to you."

"Oookay." He replied, elongating the vowel, unsure of her meaning "Hogs Head in an hour?"

"Okay." She responded, and then she hung up.

She replaced the receiver, re applied her makeup, gathered her things and strode from the office, feeling no longer weighed down by the weight of Sirius Black, but uplifted by the truth.

 **AN: please don't hate me for killing Jessica! *hides behind sofa* I know how protective you guys have got of her! But I really hoped you liked this, when I stumbled across the idea, I never thought I'd enjoy writing it as much as I did! Remember to leave a little review and tell me what you think, and check out Accio Evans, thank you so much for reading! xxxxx**


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